<p>If there ever was a powerful tool for healing matters of the heart, it is writing. By penning down your emotions, you release pain, gain clarity, and transform sorrow into strength. Each word soothes wounds, offering solace and self-discovery, turning grief into growth and resilience into renewal.</p>.<p>This is essentially the plot of Letters From The Ginza Shihodo Stationery Shop by Kenji Ueda. Translated by Emily Balistrieri, the 224-pager is a heartwarming collection of stories that unfold at a charming stationery shop in the bustling district of Ginza, Tokyo. Run by the kind and impeccably well-mannered Ken Takarada, the store is heaven for lovers of stationery — be it beautiful hues of ink, fountain pens that fit perfectly into the shape of your hand, or the most delicate piece of writing paper you’ve ever seen. However, the humble store has more to offer beyond writing instruments. A small wooden table on the top floor of the store ends up being a haven for people unable to comprehend their feelings.</p>.<p>Written in a similar format to ‘The Kamogawa Food Detectives’, the book presents the stories of five individuals — a young man entering the corporate world, the hostess of a popular elite’s club, the vice-captain of a high-school archery team, an ageing businessman, and a formerly homeless sushi chef. Each story brings along a different emotion. There is reluctance, grief, empathy, gratitude, and acceptance. Each tale is a testament to genuine human connection, making it a relatable and heartwarming read.</p>.<p><strong>A culture of hospitality</strong></p>.<p>Like the chefs at the Kamogawa Diner, Mr Takarada too is a detective. Albeit not in the literal sense. It is his intuitive nature that sets his stationery shop apart from the hundreds of stores in Ginza. He is able to read his customers’ minds, paying close attention to their every move. Are some customers freaked out by his ability to guess what’s on their minds? Yes. But, in the end, they all grow fond of the middle-aged man, in awe of his perceptiveness. Hospitality or ‘omotenashi’ in Japanese culture is rooted in a deep sense of respect and genuine care for others. It goes beyond service, creating meaningful experiences where guests feel valued. Every gesture, from a warm greeting to meticulous attention, reflects a tradition of thoughtfulness. This shines through in the interactions Mr Takada has with his customers.</p>.<p>While the lives of the customers are deeply moving, there is another factor that makes the book stand out. It is the way Mr Takarada talks about stationery. Japanese stationery is renowned worldwide for its quality, innovation, and attention to detail. From ultra-smooth gel pens and precision-engineered mechanical pencils to exquisite washi paper and elegant notebooks, every product reflects authenticity in craftsmanship. The culture places great importance on writing, both as a practical tool and an artistic expression, valuing beauty in even the smallest details. The stationery embodies ‘monozukuri’ (the spirit of making things with dedication), ensuring functionality and aesthetics blend seamlessly. This devotion makes the stationery feel like a cultural experience.</p>.<p>Watching Mr Takarada talk about the intricate details of various pieces of stationery is one of the most wholesome elements of the book. While Japanese stationery is awe-worthy, at the end of the day, a handwritten letter remains special irrespective of whether it is written on a napkin or vintage Japanese Furakawa paper. Last year, I came across a letter written by my 12-year-old self. It was neatly tucked inside an envelope and sealed with a wax stamp. On the front, it read “Strictly only for 25-year-old Asra”. The letter written by a naive tween, who probably didn’t know when to stop talking, was a little too long and crammed with all the excitement and emotions one could imagine. But I must admit that it managed to bring the biggest smile to my face. I’m guilty of reading the letter every once in a while — it’s the perfect pick-me-up on a gloomy day.</p>.<p>Is there a letter you’ve received that you hold close to your heart? When was the last time you wrote a letter? Let this serve as a reminder to not take words for granted; they heal wounds we often aren’t even aware exist.</p>.<p><em>Jimbocho is a monthly column where we sift through popular Japanese books. Mail your feedback and suggestions to asra.fathima@deccanherald.co.in</em></p>
<p>If there ever was a powerful tool for healing matters of the heart, it is writing. By penning down your emotions, you release pain, gain clarity, and transform sorrow into strength. Each word soothes wounds, offering solace and self-discovery, turning grief into growth and resilience into renewal.</p>.<p>This is essentially the plot of Letters From The Ginza Shihodo Stationery Shop by Kenji Ueda. Translated by Emily Balistrieri, the 224-pager is a heartwarming collection of stories that unfold at a charming stationery shop in the bustling district of Ginza, Tokyo. Run by the kind and impeccably well-mannered Ken Takarada, the store is heaven for lovers of stationery — be it beautiful hues of ink, fountain pens that fit perfectly into the shape of your hand, or the most delicate piece of writing paper you’ve ever seen. However, the humble store has more to offer beyond writing instruments. A small wooden table on the top floor of the store ends up being a haven for people unable to comprehend their feelings.</p>.<p>Written in a similar format to ‘The Kamogawa Food Detectives’, the book presents the stories of five individuals — a young man entering the corporate world, the hostess of a popular elite’s club, the vice-captain of a high-school archery team, an ageing businessman, and a formerly homeless sushi chef. Each story brings along a different emotion. There is reluctance, grief, empathy, gratitude, and acceptance. Each tale is a testament to genuine human connection, making it a relatable and heartwarming read.</p>.<p><strong>A culture of hospitality</strong></p>.<p>Like the chefs at the Kamogawa Diner, Mr Takarada too is a detective. Albeit not in the literal sense. It is his intuitive nature that sets his stationery shop apart from the hundreds of stores in Ginza. He is able to read his customers’ minds, paying close attention to their every move. Are some customers freaked out by his ability to guess what’s on their minds? Yes. But, in the end, they all grow fond of the middle-aged man, in awe of his perceptiveness. Hospitality or ‘omotenashi’ in Japanese culture is rooted in a deep sense of respect and genuine care for others. It goes beyond service, creating meaningful experiences where guests feel valued. Every gesture, from a warm greeting to meticulous attention, reflects a tradition of thoughtfulness. This shines through in the interactions Mr Takada has with his customers.</p>.<p>While the lives of the customers are deeply moving, there is another factor that makes the book stand out. It is the way Mr Takarada talks about stationery. Japanese stationery is renowned worldwide for its quality, innovation, and attention to detail. From ultra-smooth gel pens and precision-engineered mechanical pencils to exquisite washi paper and elegant notebooks, every product reflects authenticity in craftsmanship. The culture places great importance on writing, both as a practical tool and an artistic expression, valuing beauty in even the smallest details. The stationery embodies ‘monozukuri’ (the spirit of making things with dedication), ensuring functionality and aesthetics blend seamlessly. This devotion makes the stationery feel like a cultural experience.</p>.<p>Watching Mr Takarada talk about the intricate details of various pieces of stationery is one of the most wholesome elements of the book. While Japanese stationery is awe-worthy, at the end of the day, a handwritten letter remains special irrespective of whether it is written on a napkin or vintage Japanese Furakawa paper. Last year, I came across a letter written by my 12-year-old self. It was neatly tucked inside an envelope and sealed with a wax stamp. On the front, it read “Strictly only for 25-year-old Asra”. The letter written by a naive tween, who probably didn’t know when to stop talking, was a little too long and crammed with all the excitement and emotions one could imagine. But I must admit that it managed to bring the biggest smile to my face. I’m guilty of reading the letter every once in a while — it’s the perfect pick-me-up on a gloomy day.</p>.<p>Is there a letter you’ve received that you hold close to your heart? When was the last time you wrote a letter? Let this serve as a reminder to not take words for granted; they heal wounds we often aren’t even aware exist.</p>.<p><em>Jimbocho is a monthly column where we sift through popular Japanese books. Mail your feedback and suggestions to asra.fathima@deccanherald.co.in</em></p>